


Boys' Night In

by haisai_andagii (orphan_account)



Category: All New X-Factor, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, X-Factor (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Other, gamquick, quickbit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:04:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/haisai_andagii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy decides that drinking games are the best way to build camaraderie between teammates.  Pietro's competitive nature and brotherly guilt get the best of him.  Douglas binge drinks for redemption and his reputation.  Warlock wants to study the effects of Wild Turkey on a Technarchian nervous system.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I'm more than a mutant adventurer.  I am also a geophysicist, Pietro," Lorna explained, carefully folding a delicate looking blouse.  She placed it into her suitcase, smoothing a few wrinkles away with her hand.  She busied herself with a pair of slacks, violently attempting to adjust the cuff on the pant leg.  Pietro stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Lorna's back. 

"I know that but-"

"And it's Women's STEM conference sponsored by Serval.  The boss invited me to go."

"Yes, I understand but-"

"We'll be fine!" she hissed, a few strands of her jade hair raising. "Georgia and Luna want to go on a trip.  I love my niece.  I have a lecture on rare ferrous metals from the Kree homeworld I have been dying to give.  Danger hopes to hook up with some robophile that isn't Wanda."  Her brother snorted.  "So, one Savage Land-sized bird, one Sentinel-sized stone." 

"And that's all fine, but," Pietro started slowly.  "Please.  I just wanted to give you pocket money for the girls."  Lorna closed the suitcase lid, her hands resting on its cool shell cover for a moment before turning to look at her brother.  The corners of his sharp mouth twitched as he held up a thick white envelope.  Lorna hefted her bag on crossed over and took it from him, turning it over.

"This is all on Serval's dime," she sneered, pressing the overstuffed envelope against Pietro's chest none to gently.  "We don't need it."  Lorna shoved passed him, lugging her suitcase behind her as she stalked down the hall toward the living room.  She grunted a greeting at Doug and Warlock who were chatting in the kitchenette.  They gave her a wave, watching her stomp by with Pietro scurrying after her. 

Luna, Georgia, and Danger were already in the living room, their bags piled by the door. 

"Lorna, I'm sorry."

"Why don't you and Alex Summers just Serval Map 'Hell' and then go?" she muttered hotly under her breath.  Her sour expression quickly melted into a weary smile as she passed her suitcase to a porter.

"Good morning, Lorna.  Pietro," Linda called as she walked in through the main entrance.  She pulled two thin folders from her satchel and handed them one each.  "Here's the hotel's and conference center's contact information, an conference itinerary, and maps of the tours Luna and Georgia wanted to go on.  And everyone will be in the presidential suite."

Pietro nodded, quickly thumbing through the informational packet.

"Additionally, we've given the girls our latest version of the Serval smart watch.  It has an alarm and a GPS function in case of an emergency."

"Thank you," Lorna said gently.  Linda nodded and moved away to direct the men.

Luna trotted over and wrapped her arms around her father's waist.  Pietro bent down and pressed a kiss on the top of her head.  Lorna found her file incredibly interesting.

"Be good.  Listen to your Aunt.  You have my number?  Her number?"

"And Mommy's, and Doug's, and Remy's, and Aunt Wanda's, and Storm's, and Beast's, and Tigra's, and Uncle Black Bolt's, and Aunt Medusa's..." she recited expertly with a grin.  He tucked the envelope into her jacket pocket. 

"That's for you and Georgia," Pietro returned, simpering softly.

"The car is waiting," Linda announced as the porter picked up the last bag.  "Ladies, if you please."  Luna hugged him one last time before taking Linda's hand.

"You gon leave ol'Remy without sayin' goodbye, cher?" Remy crowed as he shuffled into the main room with a large wooden crate balanced on his hip.  He was partially dressed in the clothes he had on last night and had cowlicks that would put Pietro's antennae to shame.  The faint scent of cologne and the sound tinkling of glass wafted through the air as he carried his burden over to the coffee table.  Lorna moved aside as Linda quickly corralled the girls and Danger outside.  Pietro rolled his eyes as Doug and Warlock sauntered out to investigate.

"God, what fresh hell is he bringing upon us now?" Lorna mumbled to herself. 

"Remy's got himself a little something for later.  We gonna 'ave a Boys' Night!" he announced, setting the crate on the couch.  "So, you 'ave yo'self a good time in Richmond, Lorna.  Remy'll watch over yo' boys here."

Lorna pinched the budding pressure building between her eyes. 

"I don't know what this 'BNO' is going to entail... Listen, Warlock is in charge," she said flatly.  "And, Warlock, you have my expression permission to use lethal force on these three.  For _any_ reason."

"But Self Friend Lorna, Self could never-"

"Fine, then I'll just fly back and kill you all _myself,_ if you get out of line," she said sternly, her verdant eyes flashing faintly.  They stood stock-still as Lorna stalked through the sliding doors and was gone.

"So," Remy drawled, breaking the tense silence blanketing the room.  "I'm guessin' yo sister still none too pleased 'bout yo' spyin', huh?" He smirked at the speedster, while scratching his stubble-covered chin.

"Shut up, Remy," Pietro chided. "And go take a shower."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Synopsis: Remy decides that drinking games are the best way to build camaraderie between the teammates. Pietro competitive nature and brotherly guilt get the best of him. Douglas binge drinks for redemption and his reputation. Warlock wants to study the effects of Wild Turkey on a Technarchian nervous system.
> 
> Dark humor. Alcohol TW. Adorable Douglock. Brief Nudity with hints of one-sided (for now) Gamquick.
> 
> Honey bee narrative borrowed from Wikipedia.

 

 __ A towel-clad Remy padded into the common room and found Doug and Warlock watching a nature program about honey bees on the couch.  They seemed cozy.  Doug had his arm around the Technarch's shoulder; his hand absently stroking a strand of Warlock's wild, wiry mane. 

As a particularly fuzzy and oddly adorable honey bee began to shake what Remy could only think of as its rump its peers, the narrator explained:

_It has long been known that successfully foraging Western Honey Bees perform a dance on their return to the hive, known as waggle dance, indicating that food is farther away, while the round dance is a short version of the waggle dance, indicating that food is nearby. The laden forager dances on the comb in a circular pattern, occasionally crossing the circle in a zig-zag or waggle pattern._

"God, that's not even close" Douglas muttered, looping an iridescent wire around his fingers.  "That forager is a braggart..."

"Self friend understands all that from the bee dance?" Warlock asked, his voice trailing off into an electric purr.  

"Languages are like my thing, remember?" he replied smoothly.  "Trust me.  That bee is just being an asshole."  Remy smiled as their heads tilted towards each other.  Not wanting to disturb their peace, he slipped away, into the kitchenette and towards the bedrooms. 

As he traveled the hall, Remy caught the faint sliver of light beneath Pietro's door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"There's even an ice cream maker!" Luna's cried, her brilliant smile dominating most of the smartphone screen.  Behind her, Pietro could see Georgia jumping on a bed.  Her inky curls flapped wildly as she waved at him before belly flopping onto the duvet.

"It looks like you two are having alot of fun..."

"And there is a heated swimming pool!  And huge shopping center!  And-"

"Luna.  Georgia.  Lorna wants us to go to dinner," came a robotic voice from off frame.  Danger walked into view.  She leaned down, gently nudging Luna's face aside with her own.  "The others are hungry and wish to eat.  Lorna and I want to go to a bar afterwards, while Linda attends to the children.  Say your goodbyes now, please."

Pietro blinked owlishly.

"G-goodnight, Luna," he stammered.  "Be good, girls.  You and Lorna behave yourself, Danger."

"Does not compute.  That was a joke.  I am practicing humor in order to 'pick up' people.  Goodbye."  The android slipped out of frame.

"Bye, Dad!  I love you!" Luna said.  She blew him a kiss before ending the call.  Pietro's simper, reflected on the now black screen, faded.  He tossed his phone to the side and rolled onto his back, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.  

The door creaked softly.  Quiet footfalls stark against the silence of the room.  Pietro moved his hands and, after the colors and lights swimming across his eyes had recede, Remy standing next to his bed, beaming down at him with a Cheshire grin.  Pietro sat up, his brow furrowing.

"Why are you naked?" the speedster asked, his eyes trailing the length of Remy's body.

"Got a towel on, cher," the thief replied evenly.

"Yes, but..." Pietro protested.  "It's very short."

"It coverin' what needs coverin', non?" Remy smirked, gesturing at his hips.  "And we got da same equipment."  Pietro rolled his eyes and fell back against the bed. 

"Why are you here?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

"Well, Remy got to thinkin'-"

"Is that why I smelled smoke earlier?"

"Ha, ha...  I think it would be nice for you, me, Doug, and Warlock ta spend some time together..."

"Why?"

"'Cuz..." Remy started slowly.  "A little bondin' ain't hurt none.  We a team.  And besides, I have something dat'll cheer you up..."

"I am not in the mood right now..." the speedster replied.

"Well, Remy don't want you sulkin' in here all night over yo lil' girl.  So, you come and join us in the livin' room at nine.  And don't go runnin' off ta Richmond, neither."

Pietro groaned.

"Fine," he conceded. "I am bored anyway."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remy decides that drinking games are the best way to build camaraderie between teammates. Pietro competitive nature and brotherly guilt get the best of him. Douglas binge drinks for redemption and his reputation. Warlock wants to study the effects of Wild Turkey on a Technarchian nervous system.
> 
> Alcohol TW.

Pietro, Doug, and Warlock sat on the couch, blinking owlishly at the spread before them. Every inch of the coffee table was covered in the finest selections of junk food they had ever seen.

"Oh my God," Doug gasped. He fell to his knees and scuttled over, plucking a bag of Chili and Lime Flavored Takis. "T-They only sell these in Central America and Southern California!" The bag crinkled as he nuzzled against his cheek. "And homemade Fried Oreos and a freakin' bloomin' onion?!"

Pietro snorted. He lunged forward, catching Doug by the back of his shirt, and hauled him back into his seat. He slapped the bag of Takis from the boy's hands and toed them away. Doug let out a whimper, his eyes shimmering with tears.

"What is this all for, Cajun?" Pietro snapped, kicking the chips again as Doug tried to surreptitiously reach for them. "Collective cardiac arrest?"

"Non, cher," Remy purred. He emerged from the kitchen with a beautifully arrange vegetable and fruit platter. "I know you have a more delicate constitution. So, Remy made you dis." He slipped the platter into the speedster's lap.

"Delicate?!" Pietro squawked. "I'll have you know that I am burning 1000x times for calories sitting here than you ever could with one hour at the gym!"

"Well, if dat's the case, try one," Remy challenged, holding out a plate piled high with nachos. Pietro's nosed wrinkled at the site of the greasy tortilla chips covered in sour cream, ground beef, and cheese.

"C'mon, Quicky!" Doug cheered, his mouth and hands were coated in bright orange powder. Pietro grimaced as the boy loudly suckled each finger. "One of us! One of us!" He only stopped chanting to shovel more chips into his mouth.

"Self friend Pietro, these heavily fried foods are quite good!" Warlock added cheerfully. Pietro swallowed thickly at the sight of the Technarch, who smiled at him with trails of cheese hanging between his mouth and the fistful of mozzarella sticks in hand. "Try!"

"So fatty," the speedster murmured. Gingerly, he plucked a nacho from the plate. He glared at it, turning it this way and that before popping into his mouth. His face was scrunched, his mouth working furiously. Pietro swallowed and open his eyes; all three of his teammates watching him intently. "It....is adequate." Remy grinned. He shoved the rest of the nachos into Pietro lap.

"Eat up, boys!" he crowed, padding his way back into the kitchen. "We can't play no games onna empty stomach!"

"Games?" Warlock asked. "What sort of games?"

"Da best kind, Locky!" the Cajun replied. He shuffled over with the crate he had brought in earlier and crowbar, and set them down in front of the table. "Drinkin' games!" Remy shunted the crowbar between the panels. He grunted, putting his full weight onto it.

"Almost--!" Remy grunted, his face turning red. "Dey mus' be usin' adamantium nails o' sumtin'!"

Pietro sighed. He set his now empty plate aside, zipped over and pulled the crate apart with his bare hands. He flashed a sarcastic smirk at wind-swept comrade before retaking his seat.

"Ta da!" Remy announced theatrically, holding up something that looked like a glass skull; It was filled with a dark green liquid and looked something like a potion from those Wizarding School movies he liked to babble on about. "Dis, mon amis, is Hamlet Absinthe! And I ordered one o' each flavor!"

He tossed Doug the green skull before fishing through the crate once again. Warlock received a blue skull. Remy declared he wanted the red one because it was his "favorite flavor" ("Colors are NOT flavors," Pietro muttered contentiously.).

Pietro frowned even harder when he was tossed a black skull. He shook it, watching the inky substance sloshing around inside with a look of absolute disgust.

"How...vile..." he whispered to himself.

"I also ordered this."Remy said, producing another bottle.

"W-what is that?" Doug asked. "It's already burning my eyes!"

"Dis is good ol' fashioned Ken-Tucky Moonshine, boys!" the Cajun boasted, holding it high over his head. "It over 300 proof, illegal ab-so-lute-ly everywhere, and not fit fo' human consumption. It basically paint varnish but it perfect for our Pietro!"

"But I already have a... Yorick to drink from," the speedster protested.

"True, but we need to make sure you can stay drunk for as long as we can! And this would the trick, Remy tink."

"Why are selves doing such activities?"

"Well," the Cajun started slowly, scratching his stubbly chin. "We don't hang out enough. Fo' example, I dunno much about you Doug, 'cept you a terrible drunk and you die a lot."

"Rude!"

"And I dun much about Warlock either but, other than him worryin' about becomin' his Pa (and which one of us ain't worried 'bout dat?). But I tink it would be fun to learn more 'bout him and his culture, non?"

"Self would be happy to tell you tales of Self's turbulent and war-torn homeworld!" Warlock returned, his grin wider and brighter than ever.

"And as for Monsieur Maximoff..." All eyes were on Pietro, who glared back at them.

"You already know everything about me," he groused. "The press conference-"

"-was da beginning. And not as fun as dis." Remy uncorked the moonshine and poured a knuckle's worth into an empty glass. The room collectively recoiled at the overwhelming scent of He crossed over to Pietro, whose eyes began to water as the Cajun held the drink out to him.

"Truth or Dare, Pietro?" he propositioned, looking down at him with a piercing glare. "You either tell us a truth or you take a drink..."

"Truth," the speedster replied, his eyes never wavering.

"Is it true you and Warbird hooked up after the Avenger Academy's football game?"

Pietro said nothing, his face a blank slate.  Slowly, he reached out and plucked the pungent drink from Remy's hand. He pinched his nose and, in one fluid motion, drained the glass.

Doug let out a long, low whistle.

"Well," Pietro said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Who's next?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tragedy/Comedy. Alcohol TW. There is a lot of drinking. Some inter-species kissing. Language.

 

 

 

 

Lorna pulled off her heels as she trudged down the hallway.  She fumbled for her room key in her suit pocket as the door was wrenched open.

"You have returned, Lorna," Danger said.  "Please change so we may go to the bar.  I have been practicing my 'pick up lines' and I am eager to use them in order to procure a sexual partner."

"We'll go down in an hour or two," the woman said, shoulder past the robot. "I need to shower and get all the Geo-Geek out of my system before we go trolling for di-Oh!  Hello, girls!" 

Luna and Georgia sat on the middle of her bed, watching some bright and sparkly Japanese cartoon.

"Hi, Aunt Lorna!" her niece sing-songed.

"How was the lecture?" Georgia asked, her eyes never leaving the television.

"I think the Big Wigs at V-Tech and UVA were more than impressed.  Did you know ferrous Cree metals contain 34 unknown elements that display similar behaviors when subjected to a magnetic-"

"Lorna, there is no time for that," Danger interrupted, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom. "You have had your time to speak on your space rocks.  Now, you must shower.  Power nap.  And then, we must go to the bar to find sexual companionship."

Lorna sighed and tossed her shoes into the closet.  She threw her jacket at Danger before dragging herself into the bathroom.

"You're really bossy," she pouted, closing the door behind her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"This is childish," Pietro groused, plucking up a churro from a carefully arranged in pyramid.  He sniffed at it.  It was covered in grease and refined sugars.  Slowly, he slid into his mouth.

Doug snickered.  He ducked his reddened, glassy-eyed face behind a throw pillow when Pietro threw him a look.

"Wah iz et?" he asked around the pastry.

"Dun mind us, Pietro," Remy purred.  "We enjoying the show..."  The speedster frown, a churro still hanging from his lips.  Pietro took a vicious bite and chewed roughly.

"Troof or Dear, Swamp Rat!" Pietro barked through a mouth full of churro.  

"Uh…truth... No, dare!"

"I dare you to do something juvenile like..." the speedster trailed off, his eyes scanning the room.  They landed on Warlock who was testing the tensile strength of melted cheese on his nachos. "Kiss Warlock!"

The Cajun laughed.  Doug and Warlock ceased their experiment.

"W-what?  Kiss who, now?" the boy asked.  But Remy had already climbed into Warlock's lap.  The Technarch looked confused.

"Self was not paying attention," he confessed his metal brown knitting together.  "Remy has been challenged to do what?"

Warlock’s wiry hair stood on end as Remy whispered sweetly into what they all assumed to be the Technarch’s ear.

"Allez, cher," he purred, running his fingers along the glowing design on Warlock’s cheek. "Une petit baiser pour moi…"  The Technarch slowly looked over at Doug, who clutched a pillow to his fluttering chest.  Pietro snickered before taking a long sip from his Kentucky moonshine. 

"So, this is what is what like for my sister, huh?" he muttered, a lopsided smirk on his face.  "Oh God, Wanda married a robot..."  Pietro poured a glass of Kentucky moonshine to the brim of his Dixie red cup and began to loudly chug it down.

Doug, ignoring his teammate's small crisis, found himself in the middle of his own.  His teeth ground to together as Remy's lips ghosted along Warlock's cheeks.  The boy made a low squealing noise that began to increase in pitch as their lips finally met; their kiss deepened.  Well, not so much as deepened but in so much that Remy's face was effectively mashed against Warlock's face and Warlock began to light up and whistle like a Christmas tree.

"Cut it out, Remy," Pietro snorted he watched as literal sparks flew between their lips.  "Cypher is about to wet himself out of jealousy…" 

"I am not!" Doug huffed, warping the pillow cover in his grip.  "It's I don't know why Remy has to corrupt everyone he meets!"

Warlock pushed Remy away, covering his face with his hands.  He shrank to the size of an action figure and hide behind his friend.

"Self has never kissed like that!  Self like to gently trade bio-electric energies through corporal merging!"

"No more kissing Warlock!" Doug hissed, scooping his friend into his lap. 

"Unless it's you, right?" Remy leered.  He got a pillow in the middle of his back for his comment.  "It's Remy turn now.  Pierre, truth or dare?"

"Truth, I guess," the speedster muttered, examining his his fingers.  He extended his sugar covered hand and wiped it on Doug’s sleeve.

"Hey!"

"Ah, kid," Remy chided gently, pouring more liquor into the boy's glass.  "Ignore 'im and drink up.  Now, what Remy wan’ ya ta share wit us today, Petey?"  He took a steady sip from his skull as he mulled it over.  "All right.  Truth: You da fastest man on Earth in e'ery sense o' da word?"

"What are you getting at, Gambit?" The speedsters eyes narrowed.

"You run fast, you eat fast, you read fast..." the man replied, the corners of his mouth twitching.  "When you were wit Crystal, did you...." 

"Did I what?"

Doug began to giggle as he raised his skull to his lips.

"He wants to know if you arrive to the party early, Pedro" he snickered. "If you wreck the yard before company comes; If you spend all your coins before you hit the slots; If you shoot up the club before the guests have arrive..."

"I have lived in this country for more than a decade," Pietro started slowly. "But I am sure that that is not English coming from Ramsey's mouth..."

"Oh Mon Dieu," the Cajun groaned. "When you wit a woman, do you put the 'quick' in Quicksilver or non?"

"Oh.... Oh!" Pietro's eyes were wide.  His cheeks turned a deep red.  "...I slow down for _that_."  He pulled the cork from the moonshine and drank deeply.

There was a brief stretch of silence as his words sank in and then, Doug and Remy erupted into laughter.

"W-what?!?!  WHAT?!" Doug shouted, bouncing in his seat.  "Something can actually make Pietro Maximoff slow down?!"

"Of course, I take it slow!" he snarled, wiping at his mouth with a sleeve. "Or would you rather I leave my partners with 'rug burns' in extremely intimate places..."  It was all over then.  Everyone, including Warlock, busted out laughing. 

"Crystal a saint, dat women is!" roared Remy as he doubled over, clutching his heaving chest.

"There's not enough Astroglide in the world!" Doug cried through his tears.  Warlock's cheeks puffed out as he tried so hard to hold it all in.

_Assholes_ , Pietro muttered to himself.  _It was other things I failed to 'adjust' my speed for..._ He simpered weakly, taking another swig from his bottle, letting the liquor burn him all the way down to his belly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hotel bar was rife with conference goers searching for some light conversation about quarts and casual sex.

Danger had adopted an appearance similar to Lorna's half-sister.  When questioned, the robot simply said, "A number of internet message boards said she was hot."

"Creepy," Lorna countered.  "But effective for what you aim to do."

"Yes," Danger chimed. "I aim to engage in human courtship rituals in order to procure sex from fully formed, adult humans in accordance to age of consent laws."

"There are no people more thirsty than geologist," Lorna whispered.  "Alex and I met and hooked up in the Earth & Planetary Sciences labs at UNM.  We started talking about Isometric-Hexoctahedral crystal systems and, one thing lead to another..."

"So, I must be insufferably boring and discuss only rocks for sexual favors?" her robotic companion asked.

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks, D!"  her human friend snapped.  "Why don't you go over and talk to that guy and not be an asshole..." She pointed at a man sitting at the end of the bar.  He was wearing a simple shirt and tie, his suit jacket slung over his lap. 

Danger founds his face symmetrical enough and his body fat percentage to be an acceptable range. 

"Target acquired. Moving to engage."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of drunken debauchery escalates. Lorna is fed up with men. Danger may live up to her namesake.

The night of drunken debauchery escalates.  Lorna is fed up with men.  Danger may live up to her namesake.

Alcohol tw.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Monitor duty was uneventful. 

Fred would come in at 10pm to replace Jordon.  He would have his tray of coffees - a Haitian-blend with lots of heavy cream - and his box of chocolate donuts.   After each coffee, he would walk his assigned floors, occasionally peeking into empty rooms and flashing his torch into dark corners.  It never took Fred more than an hour and he was back in the security office to catch the Really, Really Late Show.

But tonight would be different, when Fred found Teddy waiting for him at his security station.

"You're monitoring the mutants tonight," Teddy said brusquely.  He pawed at a packet of cigarettes jutting out from his shirt pocket until he yanking one loose and cramming it into the corner of his frowning mouth. "Jordan's wife just had to have her damn baby... Where the hell is my lighter?"

Fred shrugged, his coffee and donuts still in hand.  He had arrived to find Teddy - Serval's Security Head and his superior - waiting in his office.

"Don't worry. It's only three of them and that robot alien thing," Teddy continued, turning out his pockets. "Jesus Christ on a cracker..." He turned his back to Fred, reached for the nearest drawer and found a worn matchbook inside.  "They shouldn't be trouble - Fuck's sakes!  Light this damn thing for me!"

He tossed them at Fred, hitting him square in the middle of his chest. 

"Er- what sort of powers they got, sir?" he asked, striking the match's head against the strip.  It lit.  Teddy nearly bowled him over.  He grabbed Fred's wrist and drew it up to the cigarette poking from his pursed lips. 

"Mother's milk," his superior sighed, his smile wide as two streams of smoke billowed out from his nose. 

"Sir, what sort of mutants are we talking about-"

"Er, one can read every language or something.  He's just a scrawny kid.  His best friend is some kinda robot.  I dunno.  They are always together.  We got a pool going to see who catches them fuckin' first."

He chuckled.  Fred wrinkled his nose as a cloud of smoke wafted across his face. 

"One of them is fast - I mean - he can run the speed of light or some shit,"  "He's an asshole when he wants to be but he's a good egg.  He's got his lil' girl here with him."

"And the last one?"

Teddy let out a long whistle as he rolled his eyes.

"That one - Remy, I think - he is a real piece of work, Freddy," he said, rolling his cigarette between his thick fingers. "Watch him.  He makes shit blow up, he drinks, has more cats than a cat lady, he stole my damn wallet after meeting him, is some kind of French, and he's slept with Mr. Snow's wife."

"Wow."

Teddy tossed his cigarette butt away.  He stuffed several key cards into his Fred's front pocket.

"Good luck."

Fred stepped out into the corridor and made his way to the Strike Team's suite. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The suite's common area was covered in empty bottles, take out containers, and articles of clothing.  Piles of dirty dishes littered every flat surface.  The heady scent of hard liquor and fried foods hung in the air like a thick, blanketing fog.

Fred gingerly stepped over a stack of empty beer cans as he entered.

"Allez, Doug!" he heard someone shout from the kitchenette.  "Remy got ten bucks ridin' on dis!"

Fred rested his snacks on the floor before quietly padding over to see what all the fuss was about. 

There was a skinny, blond hopping around in the middle of the room.  He was wearing a pair of Speedos over a pajamas meant for a little girl, a rainbow clown wig, and a sleep mask with -what Fred could describe as- "anime eyes" on the front of it. 

On the opposite side, lining the couch were two other men and a robot.  They were tossing what looked like lunch meat at him; the blond lunged and hopped about, snapping at lunch meat launched at him.

"Damn it, Doug!" snapped a white-haired man.  He had pronounced cheekbones and an Aquiline nose.  "You better not catch this!"

Doug froze on the spot.  Remy, chuckling to himself, peeled several slices of lunch meat from the packaging. 

"Here dey come!" he jeered.  "Open up!"  He tossed them in a high arc at the boy's face.  Doug lunged and caught two in a row with his snapping mouth. 

"Remy wins!" cried the handsome, French-sounding guy. "He caught three o' mine first!"  He flapped his outstretched hands and a robot,with the mane made of wires, and a white-haired guy handed him several dollar bills, which he then stuffed into pants pocket.

"W-what's next?" asked the blond, pulling off the sleep mask. "I think it's Warlock's turn!"

The robot - Warlock, Fred guessed - turned to the white-haired man and said: "Truth or Dare, Self-friend Pietro?"

"Dare," Pietro grunted, slicking his white antennae back as put a bottle shaped like a skull against his lips and drained half of it in a matter of seconds.

Fred's stomach roiled.

"Self dares you to..."

"Laissez-moi baiser ta bouche," Remy interjected, waggling his eyebrows at Pietro.  The blond -Doug- grinned, snorted.

"Peut-être plus tard," he replied silkily, dabbing at his pointed chin with his sleeve. "Warlock, what do you want me to do?"

The robot rested his mental chin in his hand as his large, iridescent eyes blinked slowly. 

"Self dares you to run to the top of the Monument of Washington and take a picture of self-friend!"

"In your underwear!" Doug added.  He then peeled a piece of ham still stuck to his exposed stomach and shoved it into his mouth. 

Pietro downed the rest of his skull drink.  He leapt up from the couch, wobbling wildly on unsteady feet. 

"W-what you wearin', cher?!" Remy cackled.  He doubled over, clutching his sides as he howled.

Pietro turned at the waist, gesturing at his sculpted backside with a dramatic wave of his hand.

"Like [it](http://www.freshpair.com/Male-Power-Heather-Stripe-Bong-Thong-436-208.html#.VJ5ErUDoOA)?" he crowed. "No panties lines when I'm wearing my uniform."

"No panties?" Remy laughed. "No underwear either, cher!  It look like dat ass so hungry, it eating it!"

Doug handed him his smartphone.   Fred blinked and the white-haired one was gone.  Suddenly, rush of wind gusted by him, causing him to fall hard onto his back.  He barely had time to register what happened when another bluster of wind rolled him into the kitchenette like a tumbleweed.  

"Who dat?" he heard Remy ask above him.  Two strong hands gripped Fred by his shoulders and hauled him up.  He gasped when he found himself face to face with the robot - Warlock.

"Self recognizes this person," it said, setting him carefully on his feet.  "This is a security guard."

"Welcome!" Doug greeted.  "We've been drinking for like... five hours now!"  He peeled another slice of ham on his shoulder, devoured it, and then belched loudly. 

"Forget him and look at my selfie," Pietro jeered.  He looped his arm around Fred's neck and pulled him for a better look as the other gathered around.  Sure enough, Fred saw him crouched on the very top of the Washington Monument; the white-hair man's tongue hung in a suggestive manner from his smiling mouth, resting against the stone tip of the spire.

Pietro clapped him on the back before brushing past him and grabbing a fresh liquor bottle.  Using his thumb, he broke its neck clean off.  Fred wrinkled his nose.  It smelled foul - like paint varnish.  The white-haired man winked at him before tilting his head back and pouring its contents straight into his open mouth.

The others gathered around him, cheering him on as he drank.

Fred straightened his tie.  He walked over to the elevator and, forgetting his coveted coffee and donuts, stepped inside and selected the ground floor.  The doors slid shut, cutting off the raucous laughter and assaulting his frayed nerves with jazz.

He tore from the elevator when it opened.  Fred walked briskly toward the main security station.

"Freddie?" Teddy asked, his brown knitting together in confusion.  He was mid-ashing, his tray already stacked high with cigarette butts and burnt-out matched. "You alright man?"  Fred shook his head and tossed his security badge and the key cards at his feet.

"Sir," he said firmly.  "I quit."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lorna sipped her martini as she watched Danger from over the rim of her glass.  Danger's illusion -which eerily resembled her half sister Wanda - had attracted quite a lot of attention.  Several men crowed around her...

"Why are you sitting over all alone?" Lorna heard someone whisper into her ear.  She swiveled her verdant head and a saw a man leaning on the back of her chair.

"Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink," the man said. He was blond with a strong jaw and full lips.  His blue eyes were piercing and his smile extraordinarily charming. 

Cold raced down her spine.

She exhaled slowly, raising her martini as she gave him a small smile.

"Already got one."

"But you're almost done," he persisted.  "I'll get you anoth-"

"No.  No, thank you."

Lorna slid from her seat and took two steps before his hand grabbed her shoulder.

"You don't have to be like that..."  He frowned as his hand tensed, pinching her flesh.  Lorna glowered at him; her eyes darting the offending hand still on her shoulder. "Come on.  Just one drink?"

"Gold ring, huh?" she asked, glowering at it. "You married?"

"What's it to you-"

His hand flew up and hit him several times in the face.  He stumbled back, clutching his bloodied nose and lip.

"Gold ring, my ass," Lorna muttered to herself as she stalked away as the man scrambled away.


End file.
